Our Darkest Moments
by meltedjujubees
Summary: Series of shorts featuring Zed and Syndra. Chapters are usually independent from one another, and don't follow a specific timeline. :]
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: I decided to give my Syndra/Zed shorts their own separate story from my other Short Story fic because I was writing so many and it was kind of weird with so many Syndra/Zed chapters and so few other ones in between. Also, I'd say the chapters so far are like 98% fluff, so I apologize if the title was misleading. :c_**

**_Anyways, enjoy!_**

* * *

><p>"At least try to explain."<p>

Zed exhaled loudly, but not all together impatiently. He tried to pull the right words together to describe what his shadow was and what it meant to him, but it wasn't so simple.

Something Syndra was having a very hard time understanding.

"The shadow is… Me, essentially. We are one and the same. Without the shadow, I am not whole. We are physically separate entities, to a degree. But we need each other."

His words fell short, even to his own ears. Syndra shook her head, hair whipping slightly across her back.

"But you said you could control it, that you are superior to it. How can that be, if it is yourself?"

Again, Zed struggled for words. Never before had he had to deal with someone so… Nosy. At first, her questions had been easy to answer. But Syndra was smart, and Zed had never had to explain himself to anyone before. Her increasing inquisitions were getting more and more difficult to answer, without spending the entire day trying to explain.

He stood up from where he and Syndra had been sitting, half meditating in one of the quieter parts of the forest surrounding Zed's temples.

"I'm done with questions for today."

Syndra sprang after him, having to move considerably faster to catch up with him.

"You hardly even answered my question."

Zed tried to shoot her a scathing glare, forgetting again that she couldn't see past the mask. He settled for a dismissive wave of his hand, which Syndra had come to expect.

She was very good at frustrating the ninja into silence.

She caught the hand, pushing it the opposite way he had intended for it to go.

"I hate it when you do that."

Zed rolled his eyes solely for his benefit, retracting his hand.

"Is that so?" He intoned, voice practically dripping with sarcasm.

Syndra frowned at the mask, thinking not for the first time how annoying it was to be faced with a piece of metal, and not an actual face.

A face, she fully realized just now, she'd never seen before.

"Fine, forget what I said about the shadow. I've decided I don't care."

Zed threw up his hands, but kept his steady pace towards the temple.

"Now that that's settled."

"Far from it." Syndra retorted.

He chose not to reply.

"I have a different question."

He groaned, trying to increase his pace, hoping his longer legs and desire to be alone would help him leave Syndra behind. But she was persistent, as always.

"It's easy, I promise."

"No."

"Oh please," she practically whined. "It's much simpler than the last one. Even you could answer it, challenged as you are."

Zed said nothing. Syndra waited as patiently as she could, following him all the way back to one of the smaller temples that belonged exclusively to him. This is usually where she took her leave for the day, having never been invited inside and not feeling intrusive enough to enter herself. Today, however, she wanted answers. She picked a spot in the grass and rooted herself there, crossing her arms and refusing to move a muscle. Zed stll carefully kept his back to her, mimicking Syndra's stance.

Finally, he heaved a sigh, loosening his posture and rubbing the back of his neck.

"What?" he breathed. "What is it this time? I'm very tired, so don't take too lo-"

Syndra wasted no time in interrupting him.

"Why do you wear a mask?"

Zed moved his hand reflexively to his face, as if to rub tired eyes, his hand colliding slightly with the mask in question.

"It makes me look really scary."

The earlier sarcasm that had colored his voice fell flat. He turned to face her.

"Oh haha." Syndra smirked, waving her hand through the air. "Very scary, you got me. What is it really?"

He laughed, and the sound was very, very sad.

"No special reason, really. You're overthinking it."

Syndra screwed up her face, returning her arms to their crossed position on her chest.

"Then take it off."

She knew immediately she'd made a mistake, from the way he stiffened so quickly.

"It's time for you to leave."

And without another word, he left her there, outside his room, knowing she screwed up but also knowing there was nothing she could do to fix it. She stood there a moment longer, then did as she was told, and left.

It was weeks before she saw Zed again, several long weeks that weighed heavily on her mind. And while she waited for Zed to forgive her enough to speak to her again, she had plenty of time to consider what he'd said about his shadow that day.

She thought she understood now, how you could be separate from someone but still one and the same.


	2. Chapter 2

Syndra could tell this was very, very wrong.

She could tell because her stomach was twisted into uncomfortable knots, something she'd never experienced before. Her spheres had shrunk more and more until fading away completely, and she couldn't focus enough to bring them back.

Just two words.

"I'm leaving."

She'd heard them a hundred times from him before, and a hundred times she'd responded flippantly and sarcastically and never felt a moments unease.

So why now?

He'd even gone out of his way to reassure her; something hideously out of character for the both of them. He stroked her cheek, tried to tease her, tried to kiss away the worry that was eating her alive.

"It's Shen." And that was it. All he had to say.

His eyes were bright and excited, muscles twitching in anticipation. And still, the unease, that was so unnatural and foreign to her.

She hated it.

She tried to turn this worry into something she was readily familiar with: anger.

She twisted her lip into a sneer, tried to plant her signature smirk across her face.

"That hardly seems worth the energy. What a waste."

She could tell it was the wrong thing to say from the way he leaned away from her and narrowed his gaze. He took his leave then, without another goodbye, without another touch she needed so badly.

It had been a while.

She had stayed at Zed's temple for just one night; the empty room added to the tightness in her chest, and she found it was very difficult to sleep.

She returned to her fortress, back to what she'd been doing every day until she waltzed into his life, so fatefully altering her own by proxy. It all seemed so mundane to her now; her exercises to perfect balance bored her, her meditation did nothing to relax her. Her spheres, once the picture of vitality and power, were small and hung low around her, rotating slowly and sometimes not appearing at all.

She was listless, and listlessness did not suit her.

She waited and meditated, waited and balanced, waited and slept and ate and stared at sunsets and moon rises and everything that used to give her joy.

It'd been months, and still she waited.

She waited until one night, after watching the moon rise that no longer made her feel ethereal and strong, she turned to her bed and fell very limply into it, the moon's light making her feel graceless and cumbersome. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply; the air tugged at lungs that felt like they refused to inflate, denying her the oxygen she needed. The pillows that used to smell like freesias and rain hardly reached her nose, but they were soft and conforming, the coddled her and swathed her in shallow comfort. She fell asleep, sprawled on the side of the bed farthest from the windows.

She awoke well into the morning, passed the sunrise she'd never missed before. Her spheres were gone this morning; she was too tired to will them out just yet. She laid there for a while, until her muscles practically screamed for movement. She stretched her arms above her, her legs across the bed. Slowly flicked open her eyes. She stopped mid-stretch, and tried very hard to ignore the sudden pounding of her heart, which had felt so still and dormant as of late.

"That's very unsettling."

And it was; she wasn't used to being snuck up on. If it were anyone else, it would have been impossible. But he wasn't just anyone.

Zed smirked just slightly, keeping his eyes on hers.

"The bed head is also."

Her lips tried to curve into a smile, but didn't quite make it. She studied his face; a new scar stretched across his previously unmarked cheek, small enough to be confined to that side of his face but new and red and angry. His right arm was bandaged, although it looked fresh and pristine. His clothes were clean; he stood straight and didn't appear weary in the slightest. The tightness in her chest that had become so commonplace eased just slightly, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling. The bed shifted around her and there was pressure against her forehead, pressure that moved to her lips. And then It was gone, but when he talked she could still feel his mouth against hers.

"I've changed my mind; I like the hair."

And there was the smell she'd been missing, of life and storms and comfort and everything she loved. Everything she'd lost so quickly was here, it wasn't gone forever, she could _breathe. _She inhaled deeply, lungs inflating fully like they hadn't in months. It was glorious.

She smiled, lips tugging in a way that she missed. She opened her eyes, but she was too close to Zed's face to easily focus on one thing. She settled for raising one hand to stroke the new scar that cut across his cheek. He just so slightly flinched away, but said nothing.

"What happened?" She murmured. It was a loaded question, but she would settle for just the explanation of the scar.

She waited for a response, in the meantime angling her body to better fit it to Zed's. His hand tangled in her hair, kept her face from moving away from his.

"We found Shen."

That was what he'd set out to do, why he'd been gone for nearly a year. But she could tell by the way he confessed, almost ashamed, that things hadn't gone well. Her only answer was to press her lips against his once more, savoring the feeling she'd been without for so long. She pulled away with the smallest of sighs, content.

"Miss me?"

He laughed so quietly, breath fanning her face.

The words made her tremble; it almost hurt not to answer right away. She snorted.

"I don't miss people."

The lie almost burned her tongue. From the way his hand untangled itself from her hair and paused to cup her cheek, then continued down her shoulder, her ribs, resting at her hip, she could tell he knew she was lying, but he kept silent.

Wise.

She could have stayed there, in that moment, forever. But life wouldn't stand still, not even for her. Zed had to leave, order business, and she wasn't quite in the mood to go back with him. She needed alone time, alone time not tainted with worry to think. She waited until that night, after Zed had returned and fell asleep, to sneak from the bed and out on to her terrace, standing in the moonlight that once again bathed her in strength.

On the one hand, she was indescribably happy that Zed was back; the fact that her body already yearned to be back in bed attested to the fact.

But on the other hand, she couldn't stop the nagging voice in her head that reminded her, over and over until she was sick, that she was not Zed's top priority. For as long as he lived, Shen and the order would take precedence over everything. She would be third on the list, for the foreseeable future, because Shen would clearly not be easily dealt with, and Zed would never give up on his order. And he'd demonstrated quite clearly how easy it was for him to leave her, how easy it was to show that he had his priorities in order and nothing would sway him from it. She'd waited eight months for him to return, without word or news. Nothing. And she'd done nothing but mope around like a forlorn puppy, awaiting its master. Syndra did not grieve for loss, because she did not lose.

Until Zed.

He'd shattered most of her old personality, making her quite soft. She considered the idea of making the separation permanent… But despite the relief she would feel of never having to worry about someone else's welfare, of not having to watch herself wither away when they decided there were more important things to concern themselves with, the thought didn't make her happy. She'd allowed herself to get too involved with Zed, too entranced to simply walk away.

A different thought occurred to her.

She, undoubtedly, wanted Zed. And never in her life had she yearned for something she didn't immediately acquire.

She always got what she wanted, and she wanted to be first on Zed's list, before his precious order and that pesky man Shen. She smiled up at the moon, silently thanking it for the strength it had lent her on so many nights. She needed strength to conquer, and conquer she would.

It was her favorite thing to do.


	3. Chapter 3

"You're staring."

Even if her spheres couldn't tell he was there, her skin could. The gaze she felt on the back of her neck made her skin tingle.

"I'm curious. "

"Be curious over there."

Syndra motioned very, very slightly with one hand in a direction vaguely away from where she was. Zed laughed and only moved to sit on the ground, staring more intently at what Syndra was doing.

What she was _trying_ to do.

She took a deep breath, moved one of her spheres into the correct position. Gently, carefully placed one foot on the orb she knew was in front of her. She touched her toes to it gingerly, and then placed her whole foot on it. Carefully did the same with her other foot. She swayed for just a moment, her heart leaping in her chest, but regained her balance. She stood there with her arms out to the sides, keeping perfectly still. Absolute balance.

Absolute control.

She did the same with another sphere, placing it above the one she was standing on and in front of her. Keeping her eyes closed, she repeated the process until she was again standing completely still. Her mind was clear, her breathing was calm. Everything was simple. One foot in front of the other. Stand. Balance. Repeat.

Breathe.

And Zed, to his credit, watched the rather uneventful activity with unwavering attention. He wondered what physical balance had to do with the mental balance Syndra craved, but decided now was not the time to interrupt her.

Syndra might not have even noticed. Her mind was singly focused on maintaining her balance, carefully placing the spheres higher and higher. Her body was light and at her command, she controlled where here feet went, she controlled her balance. She was at equilibrium, she would not sway, would not tilt, most of all she would not fa-

Zed shifted just slightly, breaking Syndra's concentration. The foot she'd been in the process of placing on a sphere landed on nothing, it fell through the air and she careened forward.

She was weightless for just one moment, before colliding heavily with something very hard and very uncomfortable. Despite the bruises she could feel forming on her back, she decided the situation could be incredibly worse; the greaves she could feel pressing against her spine were usually attached to blades of rather significant size.

Syndra finally opened her eyes, connecting with Zed's. She thought he looked concerned for just the smallest fraction of a second, but he smirked before she could be sure.

Syndra shoved away the arm that kept her pressed against Zed's chest, landing rather ungracefully on her feet. Zed tried to hang on to her wrist but she yanked her hand away, rubbing it unhappily. He'd been holding on a little harder than she thought. She stalked away, nursing her wrist and her pride. Of course he followed her.

"It was impressive, really."

She ignored him, aiming away from the forest and back towards her room.

Well, _their_ room. Maybe it wasn't the best place to go, but she was too angry to think of a better one.

"I would have thought you'd be grateful I caught you."

Syndra whipped around, fury twisting her face.

"_You_ made me fall! I was fine until you interrupted me!"

She was aware she sounded rather childish, but she really wasn't in the mood for reason.

She _never_ fell.

Zed crossed his arms and said nothing, and chose wisely not to follow her when she started off again.

He waited until much later that night to see her, when she was close to falling asleep. Too tired to argue.

Hopefully too tired to be mad.

She still tried to ignore him, moving as close to the edge of the bed as she could. He waited a moment, but reached out a hand to trace a bruise that had just begun to mark the pale skin under her shoulder blade. Syndra _thought_ she heard him murmur an apology, but she was nearly asleep and couldn't be sure. She was still angry at him, petty as it might be, but allowed him to shift closer, to make the hand against her back an arm around her waist.

"I loathe you."

She mumbled nearly unintelligibly. He laughed against her neck, and as she slipped deeper and deeper into sleep, she decided maybe she wasn't as mad as she was before.

"I loathe you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

For something that couldn't actually talk, Zed's shadow was quite loud. During meditation, naturally. It whispered rather vicious things to Zed with the intention of driving him to violence or insanity, he couldn't tell.

But it was breaking his concentration. Zed waved a hand through the shadow that was mimicking his pose on the grass next to him, but it simply reformed into the same position on Zed's other side.

Irritating.

The shadow laughed in his head, shoving gruesome scenes of people crying and in pain into his thoughts. People in despair, people dying, _Syndra_ dyi-

Once again for the short time he'd been out in the forest, Zed stopped what he was doing and moved. The shadow didn't like bothering him while he was moving all that much. It really only seemed to like torturing him when he was trying to think, somewhere quiet and alone. He picked a new spot, mostly in the sun this time. He sat down, evened his breathing, closed his eyes, relaxed…

Silence, for the moment. But Zed could still feel the shadow, sitting at the edge of the patch of sunlight. Waiting.

Deep breaths.

The sun was warm, too warm, but he could hardly feel it against his skin. His back was sore, sweat dripped down his temple, his scar itched. All of it, muted and quiet and far away. Right now it was only him and the air, him and the feeling of his lungs inflating slowly, evenly. Serenely.

He heard from seemingly far away when someone sat next to him, sitting too close to be the shadow or anyone from the order. To her credit, she remained perfectly still and silent, even though he knew she'd been meditating all morning and was probably sick of it by now.

She timed her breaths with his, even and slow. The rhythm was soothing and lulled him farther into the blankness that he sought to achieve with meditation, farther from the shadow and the sun and his thoughts…

One of Syndra's spheres brushed his shoulder, breaking his careful concentration. It was like coming up for air after being submerged for too long; his next breath was sharp and everything came at the same time, the burning sun, the pain in his back, the smell of Syndra's hair. He opened his eyes and glanced in her direction. She was still, breathing evenly with the smallest of smiles on her face.

"You're supposed to be meditating."

Zed nudged the sphere that wandered too close with his elbow.

"You're touching me."

She opened her eyes, grin increasing.

"No, but I can be."

She moved as if to embrace him… or pounce, he couldn't tell. He moved easily out of her way, turning her momentum against her. Syndra ended up pinned to the ground, arms pressed into the grass. Not the position she'd originally planned on, but she'd take it.

"Now who's touching who?"

She grinned upwards, gloating. She wiggled one wrist free and reached upward, grabbing Zed's shirt, tugging him closer. He resisted for a moment, teasing her.

"I thought all the touching was bad?"

She simpered, sticking her bottom lip out in a pout. Nearly irresistible.

"I lied! Now come here."

Zed happily complied, leaning low enough to press his lips against hers. Syndra moved the hand she had free from his shirt to link her fingers with his, still trying to bring him closer. Syndra was everywhere, he could feel her under his hands and his chest, her legs brushed his, her hair was tickling his cheek, the smell of lavender was heady and thick.

He didn't think he'd ever smelled something so sweet.

He could easily have spent his whole day there, pressing himself closer to her and finding new ways to move his lips against hers, but she was an even bigger tease than he was. He felt her grin, and use the hand she had entwined with his to push him away. He groaned, opening his eyes to that mischievous grin of hers.

"It's too hot here."

"No kidding."

He tried to move closer again, but she kept their hands between them. She rolled her eyes.

"You picked a very bright place to meditate. I'll be at home."

She leaned forward, using her farewell kiss to reverse their positions, leaving Zed on the ground and sauntering away. He watched her go, flustered but unable to remove the smile on his face. Even the reappearance of his shadow couldn't ruin the moment.

It didn't even try.

Zed usually tried to tune the shadow out, but it's thoughts were unusually loud at the moment. But for the first time ever, they weren't sick and disturbed.

Even the shadow liked Syndra.


	5. Chapter 5

Draven had a penchant for showy things.

His clothes, his friends, his preferred styles of murder. Even his girlfriends.

Finding a lady friend had always been difficult for Draven; it wasn't an easy thing to shoulder an ego made for two. Unsurprisingly enough, though, in Noxus, an ostentatious girl was easy enough to find. He'd taken out every enchantress, nobleman's daughter, every pretty girl in fancy clothes. Noxian woman were perfect for him; loud, gaudy, and complete airheads.

Well except for that one redhead, but that wasn't the point.

Unfortunately, you could only take out the same girl so many times before splashy became mundane, and soon Draven had a problem. One his brother had inadvertently solved for him.

The League.

The day Draven joined the League was the best day of his life. Literally- babes everywhere. He couldn't ask for flashier, more resplendent women; they wore armor and wings, carried weapons and instruments.

Hell, half of them weren't even human. It was perfect.

Draven wasted no time in trying to secure one for himself; unfortunately, it proved rather difficult. The blonde archer was apparently married (can you believe it? He didn't even see a ring.). The fox girl just laughed, the duelist sneered and stalked off. Demacians were off limits and no one from Noxus would give him the time of day. Even the Ionians (although a little too quiet for his tastes) seemed unaffected by him.

But not one particular Ionian, and he used the term loosely.

It was love at first sight. She had the long hair, rocking body, a god complex that nearly dwarfed his own. He couldn't understand why Syndra wasn't more of a hit with the other champions; she was easily his favorite.

He hadn't even met her yet.

After a particularly brutal match against her (she murdered and laughed in tandem, it was glorious.) he decided that enough was enough and today was the day. He tracked her down in the mess hall of sorts, taking one of the many available seats next to her. She smiled at him, rather coyly he though.

"Can I help you?"

He grinned wolfishly.

"Oh I'm sure you could help me with a lot of things. You could start by fixing this itty bitty problem I have…"

She tilted her head, white hair cascading over one bare shoulder. It was rather distracting.

"And that would be…?"

He didn't even bother to look up.

"Well you see, this weekend, Sona's throwing that concert right? It just so happens I have an extra ticket."

Syndra reached out one delicate hand and one delicate finger, sliding it under Draven's chin and tilting his head up.

"Much better." She said, the same coy grin stretched across her face. It only lasted a moment longer before turning into a sultry pout, her bottom lip sticking out.

"But I'm afraid I can't make it."

Draven wasn't worried.

"Come on, babe. You'll love it."

The pout remained, although it sljghtly more resembled a smirk now.

"Prior commitment. They'd kill me if I fell through."

He leaned across the table, dangerously near to those purple eyes.

"For me?"

His breath nearly stopped when she tilted even closer, nose just touching his.

"Sorry. Really."

She breathed the words, and it was honey and lavender and everything he wanted. His eyes had just started to close, leaning forward in anticipation, when the sweet smell was gone, replaced by very cold air.

"Sorry, gotta run!"

He opened his eyes in time to see Syndra being dragged almost roughly from the room by a man even bigger than he was, dressed all dark and creepy. Syndra waggled her fingers at him once before turning back around and threading her free arm through the one her captor still had around her wrist, nearly skipping after him. Draven sighed, quite unhappily.

Damn Ionians.

Zed didn't say anything until they got back to the room he had at the institute, and by then Syndra had almost started to get worried.

Almost.

He kept his grip on her wrist the whole way there, and she kept her arm through his, trying to silently and very subtly mollify him. She didn't think it was working.

They arrived at his room and he wasted no time in shoving her through the door, following closely behind her and immediately pressing her against the wall.

Normally, this would excite her. In the present light… Not so much.

"Sona's performing at a concert, did you hear?"

His only response was to press her even closer to the wall, now pinning her arms against the left wall in one hand.

"I'd have to tell Draven I can't go with him, but I guess I wouldn't mind going with you instead."

He leaned his forehead against hers; in all the excitement, it seems he forgot the mask.

Syndra decided she didn't want to talk anymore.

She parted her lips just slightly, trying to close the distance between them, but he kept just out of reach; noses touching, but lips never quite close enough.

Maddeningly tantalizing.

He slid his free hand over her hip and across her ribs, letting it rest at the crook of her neck. His thumb traced small lines, back and forth, against her bottom lip.

Syndra was sure she was going insane.

Once more she tried to close the distance, and once more he kept her at bay. His thumb stopped moving and she took the opportunity to chew on her bottom lip.

He paused, considering.

"I didn't know normal men were so to your tastes."

His breath washed slowly over her face, her lips. She couldn't remember how she'd upset him or who this normal man was.

She couldn't even remember her name.

"Normal… What?"

He laughed quietly.

"It might be nice to go out with Draven."

And she could feel his lips moving against hers, so enticingly close and yet so far. He paused again.

His lips were still there, so very nearly pressed against hers.

"I expect details."

So quiet. And suddenly the lips were gone, the pressure was gone, everything, and Syndra's eyes flicked open to nothing.

She was alone, alone in the dark with not even a shadow for company.


	6. Chapter 6

"Balance is weakness."

Syndra rolled her eyes.

"It isn't, really. You need balance to have control. Absolute control is absolute power."

"Control is not balance."

Syndra collapsed backwards, falling heavily onto the throw cushions that littered the divan she was on. She spread her arms to her sides, huffing a sigh.

"You're too narrow minded." She complained to the ceiling.

She heard Zed shift in his chair off to her right, but he said nothing. He'd long since learned that an extended argument with Syndra usually ended with him very exasperated and very wrong. He slid a hand under his mask to rub his eyes, the exasperation already setting in.

Syndra let her head loll to the side to look at him, view partially obscured by one of the many pillows. He hadn't noticed her looking yet, and she took the opportunity to stare unabashedly at the sliver of his face he'd let show. She frowned. It wasn't much to go on. She tried adjusting her view, tilting her head just a little more to the left…

There.

A scar, on the left edge of his jaw. Quite large, as far as scars went, and she couldn't see where it started or where it ended. She couldn't comfortable twist to see better, but curiosity gripped her. She'd begun reaching her hand out, almost unconsciously, to figure out where it was this mystery scar led to, when he stopped rubbing his eyes and put the mask back into place. She jerked her hand back to her side, nearly hitting her own face in the process. Zed tilted his head to the side.

"What is it?" He sounded rather bemused at her sudden clumsiness.

"Nothing, nothing." She waved her hand with the words.

"Tell me." Maybe slightly less bemused now.

"You really want to know?" She tried to keep the smile off her face, not all together succeeding.

"Yes." Getting impatient now.

"Are you sure?"

He sighed heavily, but refused to give in again. Syndra dropped her smile, and moved her finger to trace a line across her left jaw.

"This." She said, using the same finger to point at his face.

He remained quiet. She waited.

"It's just a scar." He explained flatly. "One of many."

He held out an arm as evidence, uncovered today. He was right, about many; several lines were spread and crossed along the muscles of his forearms, biceps, wrists, everywhere.

She was unsatisfied with the response.

"Why do you only cover one?"

He laughed, the sound very different from his usual, albeit relatively rare laughter. He sounded nervous, an expression she'd never seen on him before.

"The mask is for anonymity. It helps us focus on training, and to avoid distractions. Much like yourself."

Syndra rolled her eyes, the pathetic response actually offending her. By now, she'd thought he would have realized that it was pointless to lie to her, since it'd never worked before.

"The other ninjas take theirs off. Only you keep it on. I didn't know you were so easily distracted, O Master of Shadows."

His only reaction was a quiet chuckle, nervous like before. She switched positions, to perching her chin on her fists, lying on her stomach. Zed leaned away from her, uncomfortable with the proximity.

"I am much more than the other ninjas."

She chose to ignore the statement, focusing instead on the mask.

That damn mask.

She made up her mind, before reason could stay her hand. She removed one hand from underneath her chin, spreading the fingers and reaching out to Zed's face.

Slowly.

He didn't move, not when she first moved her hand and not when her fingers pressed against the mask, brushing the sides. Syndra pressed her palm against the spot where Zed's cheek would be, waiting. Still no movement. She took a deep breath, steadied her hand, moved it slightly to the side.

And slowly, ever so carefully, Syndra took off the mask.


	7. Chapter 7

It wasn't in Syndra's nature to worry.

She didn't have to; she was utterly in control of her life, and the opinions and affairs of the weak had no effect on her.

At least, that's how she used to feel.

Lately she wasn't feeling as… Stable. Secure. She prized her control over everything else in the world. The thought that she might be losing it, that she could lose the restraint she worked so hard to attain, terrified her like she'd never been before.

But it scared her almost as much as knowing why she felt this way.

Syndra had woken up alone, not strange in and of itself. Zed had a habit of slinking off very early in the morning to train his pupils, which typically took all day. She was used to the time by herself; she spent the day meditating in the gardens and going through all the exercises her old tutor had taught her to perfect her control, the things she usually did at her own temple when she wasn't with Zed.

Which, she had to admit, had been a while.

She'd grown accustomed to the dark, quiet gardens and equally silent residents of Zed's temples. She much preferred it to her own home, empty and echoing, though she'd never admit it.

About the time she finished her training, she returned to the empty room she and Zed shared. Empty, but not unusual. She didn't wait up for him, never had, and went right to sleep.

She didn't expect to wake up in the middle of the night though. The moon was perfectly centered in the sky, light filtering through the windows. The room was empty, still quiet.

But not outside the room.

The shadow order would never shout, it didn't suit them, but she could tell by the fact that she heard them at all something was wrong. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as quickly as she could, dressed, and left the room.

There was a larger temple, situated more in the center of the grounds that was more or less the meeting area for the order. The torches outside were all lit, as well as the ones inside. Through the windows she could see numerous shadows of the people inside quickly moving around, back and forth.

She almost ran through the door, and though a few ninjas looked up, no one said anything. Her presence was a usual thing now, and always welcome. The inside of the temple was silent chaos; there were a dozen or so of the higher class ninjas sprawled on cots, and the smell of blood set Syndra's skin to tingling and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. A few of the ninjas, uninjured, seemed to be giving a report to one of Zed's advisors in a corner of the room.

Not Zed himself… His advisor.

Zed wasn't a big fan of delegation, and he much preferred to be in control of the happenings of the order himself. Everything went through him first, he knew everything, was in charge of everything.

So where was he?

Syndra drifted through the room, stopping once or twice to help tie a bandage or prop someone up. As loathe as it would be for her to admit it, she cared for the ninjas and it unsettled her to see them injured. She kept her trajectory to the back of the room, and the injuries she saw on the men and women increased in severity. The scent of blood was overpowering now, choking her.

But she was in control. Her breathing was normal, she did not falter. She continued forward still, so close…

Of course he was there.

Among ninjas rendered unconscious from their injuries and a few she could feel were dead, Zed was perched on a cot himself. He was pushing away the helping hands around him, hands trying to apply pressure to two large, deep gashes across his chest and down his back. Blood was streaming down his body, dripping and collecting on the floor, but still he refused. He grabbed a towel himself, trying rather unsuccessfully to mop up the mess that was his body.

Syndra stopped at the edge of the ring of people around him, saying nothing. He was so pale, his movements slower than usual. Her head was swimming, her fingers tightened into fists. She was sure her nails were cutting into her palms, but she couldn't feel it, couldn't feel anything. Her eyes were fixated on the wound that maimed his chest, which he'd finally let someone begin to bandage. It was so deep; his blood was staining the cloth…

Her fists twitched.

That smallest of movements impossibly caught Zed's attention, whose eyes moved from the hands fixing more bandages to his back to Syndra's. She looked too put together for the time of night, but tired, and something else…

Syndra didn't say anything when he looked at her, only noticing how bright his eyes looked in the torchlight. Wordlessly he stood up, pushing the hands away from him with finality. He walked a little unsteadily to her, put a hand on her back and guided her from the room that still remained nearly silent.

The night air helped clear Syndra's head from the smell of death that had smothered it, but she still found it rather difficult to think. She only vaguely noticed them arrive at Zed's room, vaguely noticed when he pushed her gently down to the bed.

She snapped back to attention when she felt him tugging at her hand. She looked down to see him prying at the hand that was still clenched into a fist, smoothing out the fingers. Blood welled on her palm, slid off the sides. She stared at the ruby droplets, leaving behind rust colored streaks. She would've kept staring, but Zed slid a finger under her chin, tilting her head so her gaze met his.

"Are you alright?"

She said nothing, didn't move. The finger under her chin turned into a palm against her cheek.

"Syndra?"

She closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. She stayed there silently, allowing the comfort to spread through her limbs and relax her muscles.

She opened her eyes. "I'm fine."

His eyes searched hers for a moment longer, before he retracted his hand and stood up. She heard him collapse heavily onto the bed, shaking her.

She left her spot in favor of the bathroom. She splashed water gently against her face, washed the blood from her hand, examined her eyes in the mirror. Besides a slight shadow beneath them, she appeared normal. She changed back to her bedclothes, trying to be as quiet as possible when she reentered the room. She came back in time to see Zed's shadow slip quickly across the walls, joining the natural shadows in the corners and disappearing.

She shivered.

She took her spot next to Zed, resting her weary head on the pillows. He said nothing, only staring for a moment with eyes that were largely dimmer than before. She rolled over, leaving her back to face him, ignoring when he put an arm around her waist but appreciating the comfort.

This was her problem. Zed was sapping her control, and it scared her, but only because she knew she couldn't fix it. She couldn't –wouldn't- leave Zed, but she didn't know how to remain in control of herself. She didn't know the next time something like this would happen, she didn't know what would happen to her if it did.

She didn't know what her life would be without her carefully obtained discipline.

She tortured herself with what if's until she heard Zed's breathing even out, and tried to relax her own breathing. Slowly, but with her usual restraint, she fell asleep.

But the next morning, for the first time ever, it was Zed who awoke alone.


	8. Chapter 8

**_A/N: Sorry this is so short! I'm working through some super gross writer's block, and writing fluffy Syndra/Zed helps sometimes. This was pretty much a quick idea I wrote down that I figured I would just upload anyway, since I haven't added anything to this fic since it was started._**

**_Iniquity- Yes it's a repost! All these chapters were in one of my other fics, but I moved them here because it was getting a little spam-ish, and since I planned to write more I wanted to move them so I didn't bother anyone._**

**_Ulcaasi- Yup, they're all from the shorts fic! Pfff of course I do. SyndraZed 4 lyfe._**

* * *

><p>It occurred to Syndra (as it usually did when Zed was pressing her into sheets) that as much of a reputation as he had, no one would ever know him like she did. Nobody would ever know that he liked to bite the skin just underneath the corner of her jaw, or that he shivered with unmasked pleasure when she trailed her fingers up his back, or that his usual silence was abandoned in the throes of passion. He loved to whisper her name, to murmur against her skin, to moan curses and blessings against her lips, and Syndra lived for the way his mouth formed her name, and the body that fit expertly to hers. Among plenty of other things, Syndra appreciated the brief sense of pride that filled her as she looked at him above her, eyes trailing over marred skin and dark eyes only for her. Neither of them had to say it (although she would because she lived a life where the words came so rarely to her) because love was written in the way he looked at her, moved against her, the uncharacteristically gentle way he spoke her name, and even though her meager willpower was waning, he beat her to it.<p>

"I love you."

He shuddered as the words fell from his lips, and it wasn't long before Syndra joined him, unable to verbally return the sentiment until the moment had passed and she had the chance to regain some of her breath.

"And I, you."


	9. Chapter 9

**_A/N: Ulcaasi- It has to be 100% fluff because everything else I'm writing is just downright depressing right now. I neeeeeed fluff. _**

The way Syndra saw it, every scar told a story.

Whether it was short or long, humorous or morbid, each dark line carried with it a eulogy of its beginning, a tale of its creation. Syndra had few scars and fewer stories to tell, so to be in the company of someone like Zed was like being partial to a lifetime of narratives. Today in particular, Syndra was focused on the scars laced across his back, tracing her fingers over one that caught her attention initially, thin and stark white and stretching across most of Zed's left shoulder blade.

"And this one?"

Her voice was a quiet murmur that hardly disturbed the relative silence of their room, and Zed paused as if he was thinking of how to answer.

"Our first time sparring with shurikens."

She didn't know if he meant with the Kinkou or his own order, but she'd already moved on to another scar before it burned her enough to ask.

"Here."

Her touch just barely ghosted across his skin, her fingers trailing over a scar that ran almost the entire length of his spine.

"That was… Shen. When he fought for the Kinkou."

His voice faltered when Syndra's fingers were halfway down his back, and the breathless way he finished the sentence made Syndra's lips curl into the smallest of smiles. There were dozens of more scars beneath her hands, but there were others elsewhere, and she was much more interested in those. She moved slowly around him, swinging one leg over his lap to straddle him and placing both her hands on the sides of his neck, the thumb of her left hand tracing over a short scar that dissected his jaw.

"This?"

Her voice was as breathless as his was moments ago, and as curious as she really was about how that scar in particular was received, she was focused more on how many different ways they were touching in that moment. He slid a hand up her back as he fought to remember, encountering nothing but smooth skin without a history, but bringing Syndra's body all the closer.

"You, if I remember correctly."

She was close enough now that when he spoke, his lips brushed hers, and he could feel when she began to smile again.

"I think you may be right."


End file.
